Sorry for the long wait! Here's an extra long chapter, and I'll post another in a couple days.

"O for a muse of fire!" the young reporter said, dreamily. He was startled out of his daydreaming by his phone ringing. He grabbed it, and read the caller ID. It was the editor of the paper he wrote for. Uh-oh. He hit the accept call button. "Allo?"

"Allerdyce! What is this garbage you sent me?"

St. John Allerdyce, Reporter and writer of the Love on Fire Gothic romance book series. St. John thought. It did sound rather impressive. Of course this newest book would never get finished, if people didn't stop calling complaining about his newspaper articles. Anyways, what was wrong with an article that was-

"PRO MUTANT?!" his editor screamed, jolting St. John out of his thoughts again.

"Yeah, the piece is sympathetic to mutants. So?"

"So? So? People don't want to hear about how mutants are 'misunderstood'. They want mutants portrayed as the rabid animals they are! I'm not printing this. Don't you ever send me any more of this junk!" Click.

St. John put his phone down, and mentally rewrote his title. St. John Allerdyce, Reporter, Mutant, and writer of the Love on Fire gothic romance book series. "Should probably add pyromaniac to that," he muttered.

There was no denying that fact. St. John was obsessed with fire. He always had been. When he was a kid, he had burnt his house down. The police knew it was arson, but they didn't connect it to him. After hearing all kinds of talk about how most arsonists are mentally disturbed, St. John decided to keep his little preoccupation to himself. Now, he decided, his pyromania must have been destiny. He grabbed a lighter off the desk, lit a piece of paper on fire, and, holding it in his hand, watched it burn. The flame twisted, curling into the shape of a miniature dragon. St. John laughed quietly. Life is better when things are burning…

Tap, tap, tap.

St. John hastily extinguished the fire, and walked over to answer the door. A very attractive blonde with short wavy hair and blue eyes stood there.

"Lady, I don't know who you are, but you're probably in the wrong place."

"And why would that be?" she purred.

St. John smirked. "Not really my type."

"And that would be?" she asked.

"A little more…fiery." Fire was the love of his life. It was the most beautiful thing ever. He didn't understand why some people didn't like it. Flames made everything better…

St. John was shocked away from his thoughts by a squishing noise, and the fact that the woman standing in his door way had just turned into a ginger.

Well this went a little beyond his usual hallucinations of the world going up in flames.

"Aiiii!"

He slammed the door and ran into the bathroom.

"Wait! Just let me talk to you!" The voice came from inside his apartment.

Dang, dang, why didn't I lock the door? "Go away! Can't a bloke have a nervous breakdown in the privacy of his own home?"

Someone sighed outside the bathroom door. "You're not having a nervous breakdown. My name is Mystique. I'm a mutant. Like you. My power allows me to change shape."

Oh. So he hadn't finally snapped. That was good.

St. John unlocked the bathroom door, and walked out. The lady was back as a blonde. Mmm. Pity. I preferred the redhead…

"Saint John, I'm here to offer you-"

"St. John."

Mystique paused, looking confused. "I'm sorry?"

"My name. It's spelled S-T-period-J-O-H-N, but its pronounced 'sin-jihn'. Not 'Saint John'."

"Sint-jin?"

"No, it's- you know what? Why don't you just call me John?" Bloody Americans and their accents…

"All right then, John. I'm here to offer you a position in a mutant's rights activists group, known as the 'Acolytes.' It's based in America-"

"Who would I be assisting?"

"Pardon?"

"The definition of the word acolyte is one who attends or assists. So I'd be a follower. Who am I following?" St. John said.

"A man named Magneto. He's-"

"Head of the largest mutant terrorist group in the world. I know."

"Would you stop interrupting me!" snapped Mystique.

"Hey, I'm a reporter. I know current events, alright? So get to the point. I'm busy," Replied St. John.

"Have another nervous breakdown planned, do you?" Mystique said sarcastically.

St. John grinned and slipped his hand into the pocket of his sweatshirt. Aww, please give me one more reason to burn you to a crisp…

"Basically, Magneto is in need of loyal followers. I've been reading your articles, and you've shown Pro-Mutant tendencies. I've also observed you using your pyrokinesis. You have an impressive amount of control."

"Eh, not as much as you'd think."

"Joining the Acolytes would mean you be actively promoting the mutant cause. No more hiding behind papers. With Magneto at our head, the Acolytes will change the world," Mystique finished.

"Hmm. Tempting. Mind if I ask a few questions?" St. John asked.

"Go ahead."

"I'd have to move to America, wouldn't I?"

"Magneto would pay your way there, as long as you agree to become an Acolyte."

"But I don't speak American, I'd need a translator."

"What?"

"Do you provide healthcare?"

"Magneto will pay for any medical aid his Acolytes need."

"Are we stealing from people? Cos I'm not gonna lie. I'm more a 'blow up the bank and laugh as money burns' kinda guy."

"The Acolytes are a nonprofit-"

"Wait, so I wouldn't get paid? How will I afford housing?"

"You'd live at the Acolyte base, with all the other Acolytes."

"It's not co-ed, is it? I have insecurities."

"No, there are no females currently living at the Acolyte base," Mystique growled. She looked annoyed.

Good.

"Well, I'm not really interested, but-"

"You dare refuse?" Mystique roared. She changed again, turning blue with pupil-less eyes and bright red hair.

"Auugh!"

"Does this form disturb you, little pyrokinetic?"

"Sheila, you are Blue!"

"Mutant and proud. The day will come when we can freely walk around, with no one cowering in fear-"

"That day's never gonna come if you keep using your real form to SCARE THE SOCKS OFFA PEOPLE!" St. John yelled.

Mystique looked up. "You…may have a point. But I believe I'm done here. Good day, Mr. Allerdyce." She tuned, and walked towards the door.

"Wait!"

She stopped walking. "What is it now?"

"You shouldn't grind your teeth like that; it's bad for the enamel. Also, I've changed my mind. I want to join the Acolytes," St. John said.

Mystique tuned towards him. "Really? What about pay?"

"Eh, I'm a successful novelist. I'll scrape by."

Mystique held her hand out. "Then welcome to the Acolytes, John."

St. John grinned. "Call me Pyro."